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“Steve, platonic love of my life, help me.”
Steve leans against the doorframe, phone cradled against his shoulder and ear. “Hi, Robin. I’m doing fine, thanks for asking.”
“Hey, don’t go all “Mean Girl Harrington” on me this could be life or death!”
“Robin, if it really was life or death, you would have radioed.”
“My aunt and uncle are in town and they went out with my parents and left me with my baby cousin. I’ve never babysat before! Well, they did leave me in charge of some Brownies at Girl Scout camp, but they mostly ignored me. My cousin can’t even tell me what I’m doing wrong —Sarah, how did you get there!”
“Woah, calm down Rob. We’ll get you some help.”
“Just stay there. Yes, there! You are a good girl. That’s why I called you!”
“I don’t babysit.”
“What about your pack of children?”
“One, they can tell me what they need and, two, that’s for threatening shit only. The last time they came over, Dustin ate too many Three Musketeers and puked on my carpet.”
“Eww.”
“Yeah, so not exactly a babysitting role model.”
“So who do we call?”
“Nancy. She probably went through this with Mike and Holly.”
“Ugh. The premise is entirely sexist, but probably true —Sarah, don’t put that in your mouth!”
The line dies and Steve dials the Wheelers.